By Victoria Mairal-Cruz ’12, Lens Editor
I am a full-blown, curly haired, fiesta-loving española. Spain, for me, is the one place where all things are good. It is the one place where I get to have fun, be with my family, and fully show a part of myself that I don’t get to express during the year in Cincinnati. I have spent a month each summer for the past nine years staying with my yayo (grandfather) and yaya (grandmother) in the hamlet of Ceresa, in the Sobrarbe region of the Pyrenees Mountains of Spain. All of my father’s family lives in this region, in the Spanish province of Aragon, which, beginning in 1020 A.D., was the Kingdom of Aragon until 1492 when the Catholic monarchs Isabel and Fernando united Spain. It is here, in this ancient land, that my roots lie.
People in Spain live by the phrase “disfruta la vida” or “enjoy life.” Spanish culture revolves around food, fiestas and family. One tradition that Americans tend to find puzzling is the way in which Spaniards greet each other. It is customary to greet people with dos besos, or a kiss on each cheek. In greetings,in general, and especially in the summertime, people in Spain just don’t take life as seriously as we do in the United States.
One of my favorite Spanish traditions is the fiesta. Beginning in late July, throughout Sobrarbe area of the Pyrenees, there is a fiesta each weekend in a different town. In Aragon, each town has a patron saint, and on that saint’s Saint Day, the town celebrates. The fiesta organizers set up a bar, and the whole town helps to put up strings of flags to decorate the buildings. The fiestas usually last two to three days, with a different musical group playing each night. The fiestas of Ceresa, my grandparents’ town, are on the weekend of July 25, for el Dia de Santiago (Saint James’ Day). They are among the first fiestas each summer.
When my grandparents were young, in the forties, and earlier, fiestas were where young people would meet their husband or wife. Actually, my grandparents first met in the fiestas of LaFortunada, and married two years later.
Another crucial part of Spanish culture is family. La comida de la familia (the family luncheon) is one of my favorite traditions in Spain, because I get to see all of the members of my family, who I haven’t seen in a year. My grandfather, Paulino Mairal Dueso, is one of five siblings. Each summer, by turn, one of the five organizes this family meal. It is always the weekend before the fiestas in LaFortunada, the town where my father used to go every summer to stay with family, and where most of my yayo’s family lives.
As in many Latin-American or Hispanic countries, Spaniards are all about food. One of the worst things you can possibly do is refuse food. Refusing food when someone offers it not only goes against custom, but may even be insulting! When it comes to food, Spanish people just don’t understand the word “no”. My grandmother says to me, “You’re too skinny!” She then will serve me three spoons of roast, and say, “Is that enough?” If I respond yes, she says, “Here, have some more, you need to grow.” Furthermore, if you are a guest in a household, it is crucial that you understand the tricks of managing the politics of eating. It would be considered simply rude to refuse offered food. However, you also have to make sure not to take too much, because, as my grandma reminds me, they’ll think “We don’t feed you at home.” So, either way, you’re kind of doomed: either you offend them because you don’t accept it, or you make them think you’re not properly fed if you accept. There’s no way to win! Thus, food is a symbol for love, and it is important to be careful when dealing with it.
Each meal in Spain is a ritual in and of itself. The first course is generally any light starter dish; my favorite is ensalada russa, a salad of potatoes, peas, hard-boiled egg, and carrots, all diced into little pieces and mixed with mayonnaise, that my yaya makes. For the second dish, my favorite is arroz blanco con un huevo frito encima. It sounds weird, but this dish, white rice with a fried egg on top, is one of my favorite dishes and is truly delicious. The paella is also a sumptuous part of my meal. Whether it be carne asada (grilled meat) or pollo empanado (chicken breaded and fried in olive oil), meat, according to yaya, is an essential part of every meal. Finally, in my yaya’s house, no meal is complete until you’ve had fruit for dessert, and if you’re lucky, heavenly pasteles from a pastry in Bilbao, the city where my dad grew up. These are often filled with custards and creams, covered in powdered sugar, and baked perfectly to ensure delicious, flakey-but-crispy layers of pastry.
However, Spain is more than just family and food: I have a blast relaxing, hanging out, and going to fiestas. My weekend schedule in Spain consists of the following: I wake up around either noon or one o’clock, depending how late I was out the night before; Eat lunch at two, with my yayos, my brother, and my father; go to the pool until nine o’clock; come home, and help my grandmother prepare dinner; eat for an hour or so at ten, and then go out. On weekdays, it is basically the same, except that instead of going to a fiesta, my brother and I get a ride down to Laspuña, the bigger town about two kilometers away from Ceresa, where we hang out with people our age.
Another big part of my experience in Spain is learning from and spending time with my yayos. Helping my yaya to cook meals and clean the house is a ritual for me. She has taught me everything from how to make paella to how to crochet pot holders. My brother and cousins also help my yayo with outdoor work. They dig up potatoes and pick tomatoes, peaches, and pears. Even my little cousin, Teresa Lei, helps out: she is in charge of getting the eggs from the henhouse.
Every year, at the end of the month, the time comes when we must go home. I dread the moment when we drive away from my yayos. There are always tears, but I also leave with the knowledge that I will be back the next year, and everyone—my family, and my friends—will be there, ready to welcome me back with a hug, dos besos, and paella.
